


Little Magic Pill

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell was his life that he had to worry about sexing up his first officer so he wouldn’t die in a fit of madness? He definitely didn’t remember signing up for that shit when he accepted his commission. Birthday fic for awarrington.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Magic Pill

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: This is an old fic, written before STID, but I just realized I'd never posted it here, so I decided to rectify that.
> 
> So…this started out as crack, because Amanda said she really enjoyed the way I write humor. And then, I don’t know, it became serious—even though the underlying idea is still cracky—and wtf, brain? But at least I’m writing. YAY ME. Writing ST even instead of struggling to get my head around the characters of Inception. DOUBLE YAY ME. Seriously, this is a major accomplishment right now, you guys have no idea.
> 
> Happy Birthday, Amanda!!!! *hugs, hugs, hugs* I hope you are having a wonderful day!

“Why me? Why do I have to be the one who—”

“Damn it, Jim, we’ve already gone over this!” Bones cried in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. “Spock is going to damn well die if we don’t do something, and it’s either you or me! You, at least, like the guy—”

“Sometimes! Sometimes I like him!”

Bones rolled his eyes. “—and I may need to provide medical attention to one or the both of you—”

“Wait, what? You will? _Why_?”

“Just take the damn pill already, Jim!”

Jim sighed as he stared at the innocuous-seeming capsule in Bones’ outstretched hand. He didn’t sleep with crew, didn’t want to worry about accusations of favoritism or deal with the awkward aftermath. And the potential for awkwardness had increased one hundred-fold with Spock in the equation. When Spock came to and freaked out—which he invariably would—it could tear the team apart. And Jim liked his team. He’d hand-picked everyone on the bridge, and they were fucking _amazing_ together, complimenting each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and he didn’t want to lose a single one of them, didn’t want them to have to choose sides between him and Spock.

But he couldn’t very well let Spock die because he was worried about maintaining harmonious working relationships and didn’t want to drop his pants.

Fuck.

“What’s it supposed to do again?”

Bones let out an explosive sigh. “It’s just supposed to increase your sex drive so you can . . . keep up with Spock.”

“Uh huh.” He eyed the pill even more dubiously. “And you got this from where?”

Bones fidgeted, his eyes darting to the side. “From the Vulcan High Council. All the CMOs of the ships with Vulcans on them were given a supply of these in case . . . for a situation like this. Their numbers are already low enough, and they didn’t want to risk . . . I wouldn’t let you take this if I thought there was any other way, Jim. And I’ve seen the experimental data and evaluated all the components that went into this, and it shouldn’t cause you any problems. It’ll just make things easier for you both.”

"Trust Vulcans to come up with some kind of super sex pill. It's always the quiet ones—"

"Jim."

Bones had been surprisingly close-mouthed about how much he knew about Spock’s condition, but Jim trusted him. If Bones said Spock needed sex, then he needed sex. Jim could do this, he would do this, but—

They both flinched when they heard a loud crash in the next room.

“Fucking hell. Fine. Give it here.”

\-----

Jim took a deep breath before unlocking the door. He was naked save for a little bag of necessities and a thermal blanket Bones had gotten for him since Bones had suspected Spock would want to get straight down to business and wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind to give Jim time to undress. And since inciting Spock’s aggressive side by letting him tear Jim’s clothes wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, it just made more sense to go in prepared. Besides, who knew how long it would take the crew to break through Sickbay doors—their skirmish with the Klingons a few days back had left more damage than anyone had originally suspected—and it was the only outfit Jim had.

At least it was only the three of them. Promising Spock privacy had been the only way Jim could get him to see Bones when he started acting weirdly. Of course, he hadn’t expected to then become locked in with him, but apparently, he couldn’t plan for everything.

“Spock, it’s Jim. I’m coming in.” He nodded once to Bones before walking inside, knowing Bones would relock the doors behind him.

Damn, it was hot. And dark. Jim thought about ordering the computer to adjust the lights but decided to leave things as they were. Spock obviously had a preference, and right now, it was all about giving Spock whatever he wanted. Jim’s ass included.

He had to stifle a completely random urge to laugh at the thought. He knew it was mostly nerves, but it was inappropriate nonetheless. What the hell was his life that he had to worry about sexing up his first officer so he wouldn’t die in a fit of madness? He definitely didn’t remember signing up for that shit when he accepted his commission.

“Spock?” It was a little unsettling to know Spock was somewhere in the room, no doubt very aware that Jim had just entered.

“You should not be here.” The acoustics of the room were odd enough that Jim had a hard time pinpointing Spock’s exact location, but he could hear how hoarse his voice was, the faintest drag on his words like he was forcing them out.

“Actually, I think this is exactly where I should be.” In for a penny, in for a pound. Jim put on his cockiest grin to make up for the bag and blanket he dropped to the ground. “Come and get it, tiger.”

His eyes flickered to the side when he heard the raspy moan. There. But Jim didn’t move, not even when he saw Spock’s outline circling behind him.

“You should _not be here_.” Spock repeated his previous words, was almost shouting them by the end, and trust him to be a self-sacrificing son of a bitch.

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Jim could feel his heart pounding. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for things to happen, and his brain was trying to decide whether to fight or run. Fuck that. Jim Kirk didn’t run from much, and he definitely didn’t run from a sex-hungry Vulcan.

“You do not understand,” Spock panted, right behind him now. “This is—I cannot—you are not ready to—”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn ready.” Jim did laugh then, wondering when the pill was going to take effect, wondering if it already had because he felt slightly dizzy, and he was more than half-hard. Not to mention the heat of Spock’s body behind him was giving him _ideas_.

He turned, slowly so he wouldn’t startle Spock, turned until they were face to face, and he discovered he wasn’t the only one naked. He brought up his arms, let them rest on Spock’s shoulders, hot and tight with tension, and drew Spock’s head down. “Really damn ready actually,” he whispered against Spock’s lips. “You can even check if you’d like.”

He brushed his lips against Spock’s once, twice, again and again until Spock gasped, broke, until Spock wrapped his arms around him and ravaged his mouth, all sharp teeth and severe lips. Jim laughed again, kissed him back all the harder for it and wondered why he’d ever been nervous.

He moaned, breath stuttering as Spock finally took him up on his offer and checked, slid two fingers into him, growling in something like anger or triumph when he found Jim stretched and slick.

They barely made it two steps from the door the first time, rutted together on the floor with Jim’s legs wrapped around Spock’s hips and Jim’s back bowed off the ground from the force of each thrust.

The second time, Jim was on his knees, his face contorted with pleasure as he sprayed the ground with his come, Spock’s shout of release almost deafening.

They made it to a couch or cot or something for the third time, but the fourth was up against the wall, their mouths locked together, Jim snarling when Spock accidentally slid out, his fingers leaving deep bruises on Spock’s skin like he could pull him back inside.

It was easy to lose track of how many times he came, the hours passing in a haze of red-tinged pleasure and a lust that never faded. He knew the door opened occasionally, not because he was listening for it but because Spock would turn away from him then, would growl and start to rise, and Jim hated that, felt crazy because why the fuck was Spock’s attention anywhere that Jim wasn’t?

 _Jim_ couldn’t think about anything but Spock, about the long, lean lines of his body, the way he tasted, spicy and unfamiliar, the heat of him, inside and around him, so hot that he wondered how he hadn’t been burned down to a cinder. Spock shouldn’t have any thought in this head other than Jim, and if that meant dragging Spock back down and flipping them over, of demanding instead of offering and taking what should be his, then so be it.

Spock never complained, focused immediately once more on Jim—just as he should. It never failed to make Jim laugh as they rolled and fought, the blood thrumming in his veins. He needed to move, to devour, to find some kind of outlet for all the mad and half-formed desire that made his mouth dry and his skin too tight, and he gloried in the look in Spock’s eyes that revealed he felt the same.

So Jim didn’t understand when Spock began to flag, when he required longer respites between orgasms, leaving Jim to pace and watch and feel full to bursting with frustrated longing.

He could barely wait for Spock’s eyes to fully open before he was on top of him, mouth bruising, every part of him aching.

Spock’s caresses were languid and held none of the urgency that Jim felt, but he wrapped his legs around Jim, accepting him with murmured words that Jim couldn’t understand as he sought relief from the burning.

It was during one such period, when Spock was still and silent, absent of the energy that had carried him before, that the doors opened once again, and Jim’s eyes snapped to the source of the sound.

Bones. That was Bones.

He was someone familiar, friend and brother, and Jim felt drawn to him, took a step forward, stopped because he wasn’t Spock, but Jim needed—

He needed.

Bones’ scent was unlike all the other smells that saturated the room, and there was something odd about Jim being able to detect that difference from so far away, but he couldn’t concentrate on that thought, not when the aroma of something foreign but still welcome seemed to invade his sense. Jim was halfway across the room before he realized it.

“Now wait just a damn minute.” Bones held something in front of him, one foot falling back as his eyes widened and he stared at Jim’s naked, advancing body.

“Jim.”

He froze at the sound of Spock’s voice, exhausted and rough but echoing with an underlying determination.

“I am here, Jim.”

It was easy to turn back then, seeking sanctuary from the overwhelming urges that drove him without mercy, finding it within the depths of Spock’s body as many times as he could.

“I cannot,” Spock whispered hoarsely sometime—hours—later, and Jim groaned, grit his teeth together as his body protested that statement. He rubbed his face against Spock’s skin, plastering himself to Spock as weary arms surrounded him in a gentle embrace, and he tried to make that be enough, even while he knew it never would be.

\-----

“What happened?” Jim asked, the words raspy and thick. He flinched at the light when he tried to open his eyes, moaned because everything hurt, bordering on unbearable, and his head felt too heavy to lift.

“What happened? _You_ happened. Of all the damn luck, of course something like this would happen to you!” For all that the words themselves were harsh, Bones’ voice was quiet, even kind, and Jim whimpered in relief when he felt the cool touch of his hand against his forehead. “Damn Vulcans never took Jim Kirk into account when they thought up that drug of theirs."

“What do you mean?” Jim didn’t complain at the feel of the hypo against his neck, tilted his jaw to make it easier for Bones.

“I mean, the idea was that you keep pace with Spock, not outlast him! I thought Spock was going to be the problem, not you, so I couldn’t use anything I had on hand to sedate you because it would’ve reacted dangerously with the pill! And of course the fucking power to Sickbay was cut while they were trying to fix the malfunctions so I had to hobble something together to create the formula, and then I couldn’t even get in the room with you two—”

“My hero.” Jim smiled weakly when Bones scowled at him. “How’s Spock doing?” He tried to ask the way a worried captain would instead of how a—whatever he was now would ask. He licked his lips, cracked and dry, and remembered more than he thought he should, all things considered.

“He’s fine, better than you by a long shot." Bones' eyes were way too discerning, and if Jim didn't have more questions, he would've played the tired patient card just to hide from them.

"Yeah? So he's over the whole sex-or-die thing? No lasting damage?”

“He’s _fine_. Tired and hungry, but that’s no surprise. I kicked him out of here hours ago.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t—

“Damn fool was determined to sit and wait for you to wake up, but I told him it could be days, and someone had to watch over the ship in your absence.”

“ _Oh_ . . .” Bones _definitely_ saw too much. But it appeared to be working in his favor in this case. He yawned, his jaw popping, and he grinned sheepishly up at Bones, even while he tried to figure out the best way of getting out of the bed without Bones yelling at him. Too loudly, anyway.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next forty-eight hours.”

“But, _Bones_ —” Another yawn, this one even longer than the first.

“You waited this long,” Bones said cryptically, adjusting something on the biobed. “You can wait a little bit longer.”

“What are you talking—what was in that hypo?” Jim asked accusingly, eyelids fluttering, because he’d thought he’d been tired when he’d woken up, but that was nothing in comparison to the exhaustion he felt at that moment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he heard right before the world turned black.

\-----

Jim stood in front of the doors to Spock’s quarters. Damn Bones and his new healing while sleeping policy! It was like he didn’t trust Jim or something.

He took a deep, quick breath before he rang the chime. He hadn’t seen Spock since their whole sexcapade in Sickbay, although Spock had apparently visited him while he was under, and he didn’t know how Spock was going to react, or what he should say, or how the hell he was going to pretend that nothing had changed if that was what Spock wanted.

He knew what _he_ wanted to do—stupid Bones and his knowing more than he should—but it was going to be up to Spock how they went forward.

The doors opened, and he stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light. It was . . . eerily reminiscent of his first impression of the room they’d used—

Not thinking about that.

“Spock?” He looked around the room, blinking at the little touches of Spock’s personality that were spread around the room and wondering where exactly Spock was. “Hey, I wanted to—”

“Captain, you should be resting.” He caught sight of him then to his right, standing with his arms behind his back, posture as rigid and perfect as ever. It was all Jim could do not to sigh.

“How are you doing, Spock?”

"I am fully recovered."

Jim waited for more, his lips thinning when Spock didn't say anything else. It was obvious Spock was waiting for him to leave, even though he didn't come out and say so directly.

Well, fuck that.

"I'm glad," he said, and the sentiment was true, even if his smile was sharper than he'd intended. "I was worried about you."

If anything, that made Spock stand up even straighter. "There is no need for you to—”

"There's every need!" His voice was louder than it should've been, but Jim had a hard time lowering it. "Even if you weren't my first officer, you're still someone I care about, and I—what are you doing?” He glared as Spock walked towards his desk.

"I am contacting Dr. McCoy. You are obviously overwrought and still affected by the drug. You belong in Sickbay."

He growled, crossing the distance between them in a few quick strides, faltered when he got close. The low lights had prevented him from noticing before, but Spock looked like shit, face drawn and eyes dull. It made Jim's heart ache, because Spock looked worn down, looked defeated, and that wasn't right. That wasn't—that wasn't _Spock_.

"Are we—are we really doing this? We're just going to pretend that it was all—that nothing—”

"Captain." Something in Spock's voice made Jim fall silent, and he reached out without thinking, froze when Spock flinched away. "You should not be here," Spock said hoarsely, not meeting his gaze.

It was all there in the way Spock repeated the words he’d used before, when he’d needed Jim but had tried to stop himself from reaching out, the way he appeared so haggard and hopeless, the way he refused to look him in the eye. It wasn't that Spock didn't want him there, it was that he wanted him there too much, and after all that had happened, Spock was afraid to believe there could be anything real between them.

"Spock," he said, and he finished what he'd started, let his hand settle on Spock's fingers where they rested on the desk. He didn’t know how the hell the touch telepathy worked, but Jim tried to project every ounce of what he was feeling, let Spock experience the jumble and clutter of his thoughts and hopes. “I am exactly where I want to be.”

Spock's head snapped up, his eyes searching, fingers twitching under Jim's grasp. Gradually, the stiffness left his shoulders, and his hand turned until his fingertips were brushing over Jim's palm repeatedly, like he couldn’t stop himself.

"As am I," he admitted quietly, and he took the last step that separated them, sighing when Jim pulled him close.


End file.
